I am officially a huge Keri Russell fan. Having never watched a minute of Felicity, some may feel this is an unreasonable claim to make. I don't care.
I saw Waitress Saturday night with a group of friends. It was one of the most satisfying movie experiences I've had in a very long time. I don't say that to inflate your expectations, as you should also know that I liked it more than the three others I was with, each of whom had a different opinion of it. I say it simply because it was nice to see the following recipe: superior acting performances by an only slightly recognizable overall cast, a well written and funny female lead, a well written and original script, strong use of place and an endearing dash of honesty.
First of all, there is nothing better to me in film that a master female comic performance. Because of the limitations of film, actresses are rarely given the opportunity to tackle a well-written comic role (yes, I was almost a Women's Studies double major). It has gotten a lot better over the years, this I understand, but it's still more rare than starring comic roles for men. I would even argue you are more apt to see a female action hero than a true female leading comic role. Of course, this does not lend the condition that it be a well developed female action hero, as there have only been two, in my opinion (Uma Thurman in Kill Bill and Carrie Ann Moss in The Matrix). This is all to say that Keri Russell knocked it out of the park with this one, leaving any self-consciousness at the door to play Jenna - a waitress with whom none of us would want to switch places. She's the dominated in a very bad marriage, pregnant with an unwanted baby and working for an ungrateful boss. Still, she's unapologetic for these realities and gets by with her kindness, wit and unparalleled pie making skills.
Many of the characters are, in fact, caricatures, certainly, but unraveling the personas behind Russell and Andy Griffith's characters make up for any residual annoyance with that very necessary matter. Further, the writing is quick and sharp, silly and oblivious all at once.
I also had a moment with this movie that made me fall in love with language. I guess this is why I was an English major. But there are moments in which I see how a person chose to phrase something, and it leaves me breathless. It is rarely a profound revelation, simply a delicate choreography of word choice. The moment was one in which Jenna is writing one of many letters to her unborn child:
"I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight... All they do is wrap you up in their arms without an ounce of selfishness to it."
So check it out when you can, and send me your make believe pie recipes. Here's my first:
I Wish It Was Friday Again Pie
Tiramisu Base
Whipped Cream - lots of it
Coffee Ice Cream
Monday, May 28, 2007
Losing my sense of humor...
Am I turning into a nasty old woman?
I went to see Louis CK with a group of friends last night. He was performing at the DC Improv, one of my favorite places in town.
I absolutely love stand up comedy. So, I'm left baffled by how not funny I found this performance to be. Particularly given the fact that everyone else in my group was laughing so hard they were crying and they were complaining that their cheeks ached.
I don't know what my problem was. Granted, when I saw his HBO special, I didn't think it was that great, so I didn't enter into the night thinking it was going to blow my mind. Still, what is my problem?
Please understand the act had its moments that even I appreciated. But there are certain topics I have a really hard time laughing about. They include, in no particular order:
anal sex (with human or animal)
9/11
why being married sucks
If you know anything about Louis CK's standup, you can detect why there may have existed a bit of a disconnect. Still, I felt like a prude. I don't deny the guy's talent or his ability to truly tell a story. What I've learned about standup over the past year or so is the importance of the journey it actually takes you on and how it should "wrap up" at the end of the act. He does that very well. I just think what he does, the content of his act, that is, is very "easy". For example, one of the things I really like about Jerry Seinfeld is that he doesn't curse in his stand up act. His reasoning? "Easy laughs." Understand that I'm my father's daughter, and can curse like a sailor if in the right mood. So, again, it's not like I'm suddenly Angela from The Office. I guess I'm just looking for something else.
This is all said with the understanding that I could NEVER do what he does. I'm in awe of it. Still, while I wish that I could have laughed along with my friends, last night, I take a bit of pride knowing his joke about masturbating as the twin towers fell did nothing for me.
I went to see Louis CK with a group of friends last night. He was performing at the DC Improv, one of my favorite places in town.
I absolutely love stand up comedy. So, I'm left baffled by how not funny I found this performance to be. Particularly given the fact that everyone else in my group was laughing so hard they were crying and they were complaining that their cheeks ached.
I don't know what my problem was. Granted, when I saw his HBO special, I didn't think it was that great, so I didn't enter into the night thinking it was going to blow my mind. Still, what is my problem?
Please understand the act had its moments that even I appreciated. But there are certain topics I have a really hard time laughing about. They include, in no particular order:
anal sex (with human or animal)
9/11
why being married sucks
If you know anything about Louis CK's standup, you can detect why there may have existed a bit of a disconnect. Still, I felt like a prude. I don't deny the guy's talent or his ability to truly tell a story. What I've learned about standup over the past year or so is the importance of the journey it actually takes you on and how it should "wrap up" at the end of the act. He does that very well. I just think what he does, the content of his act, that is, is very "easy". For example, one of the things I really like about Jerry Seinfeld is that he doesn't curse in his stand up act. His reasoning? "Easy laughs." Understand that I'm my father's daughter, and can curse like a sailor if in the right mood. So, again, it's not like I'm suddenly Angela from The Office. I guess I'm just looking for something else.
This is all said with the understanding that I could NEVER do what he does. I'm in awe of it. Still, while I wish that I could have laughed along with my friends, last night, I take a bit of pride knowing his joke about masturbating as the twin towers fell did nothing for me.
On memories...
I started packing today. Really packing. Of course, I am completely dismayed that I have already filled 6 boxes but the only thing that's packed away are my books, DVDs and board games. I feel like this is a bad omen for yet another wake up call re: all my accumulated crap.
The truth is, however, that I'm truly purging things for the first time. I still have those 4 bags of clothes to donate, I'm keeping only "essential" CDs and I will, yes I WILL, finally get rid of my rollerblades (last worn in 2001 - fumbling my way down the Esplanade in Boston). I just completed the oddest purging exercise of all, however. I just tossed a bunch of pictures.
Sounds horrible, doesn't it? Granted, many were duplicates. But, as I started to pack away empty photo albums I also started going through old pictures. I then realized what might make more sense is to perhaps put some of these pictures IN one of these empty photo albums. So, I finally compiled a college album.
What was most striking to me about the whole process was how many pictures I had for freshman and sophomore year, and how few (relatively) I had from junior and senior year. Junior year doesn't really count, as one semester was my semester abroad and there's a whole other album devoted to that. Fall semester, the term I was on campus, is still relatively empty though, as half of our friends were in other countries. Bizarre.
Still, the later years of college were about trimming the fat. Where the first two years are really about accumulating the largest group of friends possible, the last two are about finding the people about whom you truly care. Of course, it didn't help that I was sparring with one of my roommates senior year and rather than maturely dealing with the issue I hid in my boyfriend's apartment. Luckily, I spent over 5 years with the guy in the end. Still...
So yes, I threw away a lot of pictures. Mainly of people who were never really my friends, but who lived on our hall or went to the same parties. Two of the pictures I tossed were of my sophomore year roommates the day they were selected for their sororities. Despite our best efforts, it was incredibly difficult to remain the same kind of friends we were once they pledged, and then other factors entered in. It makes me sad to know I went from not knowing how to live without them, to barely saying hello in the span of our four years. Those two pictures were fine to go.
It's also HYSTERICAL to look back and see how, bless my heart, I never truly fit in at this place. As hard as I tried, I just didn't know how to do it. One of the funniest pictures I found was of a group of us heading out to a semi-formal sophomore year. I am the only one not wearing a tiny black dress and heels. I'm in this horribly ill fitting pink and purple silk floral number, that fell to my ankles where I sported sandals likely purchased at LL Bean. You can take the girl out of Maine... I honestly look like a hippie. I have never been a hippie. Lord, I just couldn't figure it out. But I'm honestly grateful for that. It wasn't until much later that I became obsessed with fitting in. How odd that I managed to avoid it for so long. If only I could have avoided it period.
Still, I'm proud of the album I put together. I seemed to pack away a lot of the anger and hurt I have felt about many of these people for a while now, and complied an album full of fantastic memories, despite how things might be now. Even kept the one of my freshman year boyfriend, who was a total douche. Whatever - I look really good in it.
The truth is, however, that I'm truly purging things for the first time. I still have those 4 bags of clothes to donate, I'm keeping only "essential" CDs and I will, yes I WILL, finally get rid of my rollerblades (last worn in 2001 - fumbling my way down the Esplanade in Boston). I just completed the oddest purging exercise of all, however. I just tossed a bunch of pictures.
Sounds horrible, doesn't it? Granted, many were duplicates. But, as I started to pack away empty photo albums I also started going through old pictures. I then realized what might make more sense is to perhaps put some of these pictures IN one of these empty photo albums. So, I finally compiled a college album.
What was most striking to me about the whole process was how many pictures I had for freshman and sophomore year, and how few (relatively) I had from junior and senior year. Junior year doesn't really count, as one semester was my semester abroad and there's a whole other album devoted to that. Fall semester, the term I was on campus, is still relatively empty though, as half of our friends were in other countries. Bizarre.
Still, the later years of college were about trimming the fat. Where the first two years are really about accumulating the largest group of friends possible, the last two are about finding the people about whom you truly care. Of course, it didn't help that I was sparring with one of my roommates senior year and rather than maturely dealing with the issue I hid in my boyfriend's apartment. Luckily, I spent over 5 years with the guy in the end. Still...
So yes, I threw away a lot of pictures. Mainly of people who were never really my friends, but who lived on our hall or went to the same parties. Two of the pictures I tossed were of my sophomore year roommates the day they were selected for their sororities. Despite our best efforts, it was incredibly difficult to remain the same kind of friends we were once they pledged, and then other factors entered in. It makes me sad to know I went from not knowing how to live without them, to barely saying hello in the span of our four years. Those two pictures were fine to go.
It's also HYSTERICAL to look back and see how, bless my heart, I never truly fit in at this place. As hard as I tried, I just didn't know how to do it. One of the funniest pictures I found was of a group of us heading out to a semi-formal sophomore year. I am the only one not wearing a tiny black dress and heels. I'm in this horribly ill fitting pink and purple silk floral number, that fell to my ankles where I sported sandals likely purchased at LL Bean. You can take the girl out of Maine... I honestly look like a hippie. I have never been a hippie. Lord, I just couldn't figure it out. But I'm honestly grateful for that. It wasn't until much later that I became obsessed with fitting in. How odd that I managed to avoid it for so long. If only I could have avoided it period.
Still, I'm proud of the album I put together. I seemed to pack away a lot of the anger and hurt I have felt about many of these people for a while now, and complied an album full of fantastic memories, despite how things might be now. Even kept the one of my freshman year boyfriend, who was a total douche. Whatever - I look really good in it.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
On the preference to return to bed.. but not my own
It's 8:38 am and I've had a rather rough start to my day.
It all began around 2:45 this morning, when someone stood at the door to my apartment and knocked loudly until about 3:00. They came back and did it again a few minutes later. Here was my thought process:
Wah?
Um...
Who could possibly...
Is my roommate home? Yes.
Could it be someone I know? No... I'm in a secure building. They would have to call me first to get in.. or be buzzed in by the front desk.
I live in this apartment with one other woman, who is smaller than me.
No one is saying "HELP". No one is saying "POLICE!" or "FIRE!".
If I get up and check to see who it is, they'll hear me get up and check (trust me, paper thin).
I'm staying in bed.
Please go away.
Please go away.
Please go away.
They eventually did, and I think I fell back asleep around 4. I'm quite certain I woke up to it again shortly after, but they only knocked once this time.
This SERIOUSLY freaked me out and left me lacking sleep on a day when I have to pinch hit for my boss at a big scary meeting. Funny, I should be prepping for it. I think I'll continue to write my blog instead.
Anyway, I got up, took a shower, and proceeded to have the clothes crisis of the century trying to figure out what to wear because of this stupid meeting. The bummer is it's a casual day at my place of work, a special appreciation day for the staff in fact, but I'm all suited up. It wouldn't have been such a problem if my clothes were ironed. Anyway, I figured it out, but walked out of the door about 20 minutes later than I usually do.
To the Metro. This big gate collapses by an escalator as I'm walking by, causing me to jump about 3 feet in the air and look, well, completely foolish. Recovering from that, I made my way to the farecard machines to add money to my Metro pass. To my left was an elderly couple trying to figure out the machines. Totally clueless. They watched me for some sort of expert tips. As I piled my bucket of change into the machine (yes, change I've been saving up to add to the Metro card - it just makes me feel good), I asked "Need some help?". Yes, we do!
Well, as I attempted to help them with my local expertise, they weren't quite quick on the uptake. As I was walking them through it, my machine cancelled my transaction, since I was taking so long, and ate about $4 worth of coin. BUGGER!
To make matters worse, I didn't notice that this couple used a machine that said "No Bills!" at the top, and they had just put a $5 bill in the machine. That, too, was eaten. So, despite my best effort, they had to call the Metro guy over and I turned into the "Some help YOU are" lady. Sigh.
I then missed my train.
I then missed my connecting train.
I arrived at my Metro stop and sat waiting for the shuttle. A woman I work with arrived around the same time, and we began chatting. As she told me the story of seeing a suspicious man in her neighborhood, I figured I'd fill her in on my knocking story. Of course, she too was completely creeped out. But then she said, "Wait, what if someone needed help?"
"Um, well, I guess I figured they'd say something or yell."
"But, what if they were so scared they lost their voice, or what if they were in too much pain, or what if they were a mute or handicapped?"
I am a horrible, horrible person. I'm also officially terrified of this meeting. So, like I said, I want to go back to bed, but not my bed b/c the crazy knocking handicapped mute might come back.
It all began around 2:45 this morning, when someone stood at the door to my apartment and knocked loudly until about 3:00. They came back and did it again a few minutes later. Here was my thought process:
Wah?
Um...
Who could possibly...
Is my roommate home? Yes.
Could it be someone I know? No... I'm in a secure building. They would have to call me first to get in.. or be buzzed in by the front desk.
I live in this apartment with one other woman, who is smaller than me.
No one is saying "HELP". No one is saying "POLICE!" or "FIRE!".
If I get up and check to see who it is, they'll hear me get up and check (trust me, paper thin).
I'm staying in bed.
Please go away.
Please go away.
Please go away.
They eventually did, and I think I fell back asleep around 4. I'm quite certain I woke up to it again shortly after, but they only knocked once this time.
This SERIOUSLY freaked me out and left me lacking sleep on a day when I have to pinch hit for my boss at a big scary meeting. Funny, I should be prepping for it. I think I'll continue to write my blog instead.
Anyway, I got up, took a shower, and proceeded to have the clothes crisis of the century trying to figure out what to wear because of this stupid meeting. The bummer is it's a casual day at my place of work, a special appreciation day for the staff in fact, but I'm all suited up. It wouldn't have been such a problem if my clothes were ironed. Anyway, I figured it out, but walked out of the door about 20 minutes later than I usually do.
To the Metro. This big gate collapses by an escalator as I'm walking by, causing me to jump about 3 feet in the air and look, well, completely foolish. Recovering from that, I made my way to the farecard machines to add money to my Metro pass. To my left was an elderly couple trying to figure out the machines. Totally clueless. They watched me for some sort of expert tips. As I piled my bucket of change into the machine (yes, change I've been saving up to add to the Metro card - it just makes me feel good), I asked "Need some help?". Yes, we do!
Well, as I attempted to help them with my local expertise, they weren't quite quick on the uptake. As I was walking them through it, my machine cancelled my transaction, since I was taking so long, and ate about $4 worth of coin. BUGGER!
To make matters worse, I didn't notice that this couple used a machine that said "No Bills!" at the top, and they had just put a $5 bill in the machine. That, too, was eaten. So, despite my best effort, they had to call the Metro guy over and I turned into the "Some help YOU are" lady. Sigh.
I then missed my train.
I then missed my connecting train.
I arrived at my Metro stop and sat waiting for the shuttle. A woman I work with arrived around the same time, and we began chatting. As she told me the story of seeing a suspicious man in her neighborhood, I figured I'd fill her in on my knocking story. Of course, she too was completely creeped out. But then she said, "Wait, what if someone needed help?"
"Um, well, I guess I figured they'd say something or yell."
"But, what if they were so scared they lost their voice, or what if they were in too much pain, or what if they were a mute or handicapped?"
I am a horrible, horrible person. I'm also officially terrified of this meeting. So, like I said, I want to go back to bed, but not my bed b/c the crazy knocking handicapped mute might come back.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
On a whole new level of respect
I had the most delightful last few days. Well, today excluded, but that's besides the point. Saw a fantastic play (despite what The Washington Post says) in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at The Studio Theatre on Friday night. This after unknowingly having dinner at a funky little joint connected to one of the best known gay clubs in town (woops!). Ah, it's good to feel like a cosmopolitan girl from time to time. Intellectual plays and hanging with the gays. Hooray!
Saturday was spent doing some fantastic damage at the Leesburg Outlets with a favorite friend and spending time at a 4 year old's birthday party (don't worry, I knew her), while Sunday was devoted to sleeping in and then hanging out with this same favorite friend and her fantastic children. I took the day off on Monday to help my friend with babysitting the youngest, while she took the oldest to kindergarten orientation.
Since when do they have kindergarten orientation, by the way?
My friend kept insisting what a great help I was being, when in all reality I need to thank her for giving me the opportunity. First of all, it gave me a whole new perspective on stay at home moms. I was fully aware that she worked hard. I just didn't realize HOW hard. Her day was non-stop. Up with the kids (anywhere from 5 am to 6:30 am), off to school with one, to the playground with the other, playing downstairs, playing outside, making lunch, fetching from school, bringing to orientation, back home, pick up daughter's friend, go to ballet, come home, dinner, bath, play, put everyone to bed. No time for herself, just constant interaction and entertaining and/or transporting while interacting and entertaining. I was beat and I didn't do half of what she did! I think it's the constant interaction that people don't realize is so very draining. I really don't know how she does it. I know the unconditional love thing helps, but still.
So it was tiring, but also incredibly therapeutic. I never realized how soothing playing in a sandbox with a 2 year old can be. Or the joy one can get from endlessly entertaining a 4 year old with a bad impression of Puss In Boots from Shrek. I think it's bad. She thinks it's fantastic. She also hasn't seen Shrek. Bygones...
So thanks, A, for including me and making me feel like a part of the family. It was nice to spend a Monday with people who I love so very much and who don't leave me feeling like I have a big target on my chest. I think the boy and I have made major progress (though you'll need to keep putting on his shoes) and your daughter continues to amaze me. Just let me know when you need a sitter again. I'm there.
I just hope you've forgiven me for suggesting what a hoot it would be to watch The Bachelor.
Saturday was spent doing some fantastic damage at the Leesburg Outlets with a favorite friend and spending time at a 4 year old's birthday party (don't worry, I knew her), while Sunday was devoted to sleeping in and then hanging out with this same favorite friend and her fantastic children. I took the day off on Monday to help my friend with babysitting the youngest, while she took the oldest to kindergarten orientation.
Since when do they have kindergarten orientation, by the way?
My friend kept insisting what a great help I was being, when in all reality I need to thank her for giving me the opportunity. First of all, it gave me a whole new perspective on stay at home moms. I was fully aware that she worked hard. I just didn't realize HOW hard. Her day was non-stop. Up with the kids (anywhere from 5 am to 6:30 am), off to school with one, to the playground with the other, playing downstairs, playing outside, making lunch, fetching from school, bringing to orientation, back home, pick up daughter's friend, go to ballet, come home, dinner, bath, play, put everyone to bed. No time for herself, just constant interaction and entertaining and/or transporting while interacting and entertaining. I was beat and I didn't do half of what she did! I think it's the constant interaction that people don't realize is so very draining. I really don't know how she does it. I know the unconditional love thing helps, but still.
So it was tiring, but also incredibly therapeutic. I never realized how soothing playing in a sandbox with a 2 year old can be. Or the joy one can get from endlessly entertaining a 4 year old with a bad impression of Puss In Boots from Shrek. I think it's bad. She thinks it's fantastic. She also hasn't seen Shrek. Bygones...
So thanks, A, for including me and making me feel like a part of the family. It was nice to spend a Monday with people who I love so very much and who don't leave me feeling like I have a big target on my chest. I think the boy and I have made major progress (though you'll need to keep putting on his shoes) and your daughter continues to amaze me. Just let me know when you need a sitter again. I'm there.
I just hope you've forgiven me for suggesting what a hoot it would be to watch The Bachelor.
Two questions...
10 more minutes to go in the American Idol finale and two things are on my mind. No, one of them is not who will be YOUR next American Idol.
1) How can Joe Perry be so ugly but so sexy?
2) Is Kelly Clarkson's butt really that shapely?
Just curious..
1) How can Joe Perry be so ugly but so sexy?
2) Is Kelly Clarkson's butt really that shapely?
Just curious..
Friday, May 18, 2007
On my genius friends
My very dear friend Chrissy just found out she's graduating Summa Cum Laude from BU Law. You need at least a 4.04 to make that happen. Yeah, she's like second in her class. Having worked with her and seen all she's capable of, and all she's made happen for herself with her undergrad and graduate education, I'm just taking time out in my blog to say CONGRATULATIONS SWEETIE! You're fantastic and we're so freakin proud of you. But why do you have to also be incredibly sweet and totally beautiful? Throw me a bone. It's not fair to the rest of us. I'd be happier if you were fat and ugly, but I'm still pretty happy for you.
Please invite us to your summer home in the Hamptons when you get one and I look forward to you supporting me later in life. MWAH!
Please invite us to your summer home in the Hamptons when you get one and I look forward to you supporting me later in life. MWAH!
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
On feeling like it's vewwy vewwy qwyet
Working on a college campus is a wonderful thing. You can count on working with pretty outgoing and positive people (sometimes) and you can't really beat the atmosphere. Sure, as a late 20s female you may not want to go to the gym with a bunch of 19 year old girls, but other than that, it's a pretty sweet environment.
Except right after graduation.
I will no doubt blog about the serenity of an empty campus later this summer, and will no doubt have a woe is me moment with you all when they return and infest my shuttle bus and coffee place.
Right now, however, it is EERIE LY quiet. You can see the empty dorm rooms from the windows - lacking decoration and with bunked beds pushed up to the window to allow for cleaning. There is no activity on the quad. Many of the food places are shut down and much of the campus is closed for construction. This morning had a strange 28 Days Later feeling. Then when the zombie came rushing up behind me and I had to beat him with a baseball bat it was even stranger. Hope that doesn't happen again.
Except right after graduation.
I will no doubt blog about the serenity of an empty campus later this summer, and will no doubt have a woe is me moment with you all when they return and infest my shuttle bus and coffee place.
Right now, however, it is EERIE LY quiet. You can see the empty dorm rooms from the windows - lacking decoration and with bunked beds pushed up to the window to allow for cleaning. There is no activity on the quad. Many of the food places are shut down and much of the campus is closed for construction. This morning had a strange 28 Days Later feeling. Then when the zombie came rushing up behind me and I had to beat him with a baseball bat it was even stranger. Hope that doesn't happen again.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
On baby steps
Well, I'm moving again. Let's face it, last year brought an end to a proud tradition of my moving every year since I was 18 years old. I kind of didn't know what to do with myself as I stayed put. The good news is I'm moving in with one of my favorite people, am taking all sorts of positive relationship steps, will pay less rent for a space that's more suited to me, am still on the Metro, etc. So, lots of good things even though the thought of the physical move itself makes me want to pull out my, well, insert random body part and it's accurate.
So step one of preparing for the move started today. As I type this from the comfort of my bed, to my right on the floor are 4 garbage bags full of clothes and shoes I'm forcing myself to get rid of. No worries, they'll be donated. Still, how do I possibly own so many clothes that either do not fit anymore, are no longer in style (or never really were) or simply haven't touched my skin in 1-2 years? Not that I needed any level of confirmation, but this is proof that, at one point in time, I had a serious clothes shopping addiction.
Of course, I still have more clothes than I have space for (minus these four garbage bags) and I still feel I have absolutely nothing to wear. Good thing I'm going outlet shopping this weekend.
So step one of preparing for the move started today. As I type this from the comfort of my bed, to my right on the floor are 4 garbage bags full of clothes and shoes I'm forcing myself to get rid of. No worries, they'll be donated. Still, how do I possibly own so many clothes that either do not fit anymore, are no longer in style (or never really were) or simply haven't touched my skin in 1-2 years? Not that I needed any level of confirmation, but this is proof that, at one point in time, I had a serious clothes shopping addiction.
Of course, I still have more clothes than I have space for (minus these four garbage bags) and I still feel I have absolutely nothing to wear. Good thing I'm going outlet shopping this weekend.
On my favorite publication
As an FYI, Maxim is one of the dumbest magazines in print.
As I know many of you were eagerly anticipating, their top 100 hottest women edition just hit newsstands. In their undeniable wisdom, Lindsay Lohan has been voted the hottest woman alive.
If that isn't enough to make you gag, riddle me this Batman..
Ashley Olsen is #37. Mary-Kate Olsen is not on the list.
Of course, there are two major issues at play. The "Ew - Olsen Twins!" factor and the "Buh? One twin makes it but not the other?" scenario.
On a different note, I'm desperately trying to figure out is if choosing Sarah Silverman was actually a classy or jerk move. Like, are they tipping the hat to the funny, or are they being the jerk who asks you out as a joke? Not that that's happened to me out in back of the school in the 7th grade or anything.
As I know many of you were eagerly anticipating, their top 100 hottest women edition just hit newsstands. In their undeniable wisdom, Lindsay Lohan has been voted the hottest woman alive.
If that isn't enough to make you gag, riddle me this Batman..
Ashley Olsen is #37. Mary-Kate Olsen is not on the list.
Of course, there are two major issues at play. The "Ew - Olsen Twins!" factor and the "Buh? One twin makes it but not the other?" scenario.
On a different note, I'm desperately trying to figure out is if choosing Sarah Silverman was actually a classy or jerk move. Like, are they tipping the hat to the funny, or are they being the jerk who asks you out as a joke? Not that that's happened to me out in back of the school in the 7th grade or anything.
Monday, May 14, 2007
On being the anti-Donna Reed
I just did 5 loads of laundry. FIVE. My laundry pile rivaled Mt. Everest.
On being my own worst enemy
I spent today in an all day meeting, or a "retreat", at a hotel function room just one Metro stop away from my place of work. Yes, this is just what someone like Thoreau had in mind when he spoke of "retreat". Fake leather executive chairs, laptops, LCD projectors and mini Diet Coke bottles. Walden, take me away!
I was doing just fine for the morning session, but found myself struggling in the afternoon. Too much lunch and discussion fatigue had my head bobbing and eyes shutting beyond my control. I do some fairly odd things to keep myself awake in these circumstances. It's hard when you have to be subtle. But I'll do things like pinch the area just under my eye (where my dark circles usually reside) or scratch my arm, the back of my neck, anything to keep myself awake.
Since I spent much of the morning biting my fingernails (what IS wrong with me), my arm scratching has resulted in serious injury. I have two rather large cuts on my forearm. They hurt. Like bad. It looks like I was attacked by a cat. But, no, I did it to myself.
Awesome.
I was doing just fine for the morning session, but found myself struggling in the afternoon. Too much lunch and discussion fatigue had my head bobbing and eyes shutting beyond my control. I do some fairly odd things to keep myself awake in these circumstances. It's hard when you have to be subtle. But I'll do things like pinch the area just under my eye (where my dark circles usually reside) or scratch my arm, the back of my neck, anything to keep myself awake.
Since I spent much of the morning biting my fingernails (what IS wrong with me), my arm scratching has resulted in serious injury. I have two rather large cuts on my forearm. They hurt. Like bad. It looks like I was attacked by a cat. But, no, I did it to myself.
Awesome.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Only in DC
I met a friend for ice cream and catching up tonight. Lately she's grown a fondness for this country bar where line dancing is the major order of business. I went few weeks back, to help celebrate her birthday. It was my first time line dancing, and we all spent quite a few moments sizing up the instructor.
Mid-40s guy, average height but very good build, Ken doll hair and a bit of a pitch to his voice. Picture Ned Flanders with flatter hair, a black t-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. Yep, now you've got him.
My friend broke the news tonight that she found out what his day job is.
Mr. Line Dance Instructor works at the FBI. DC is such a strange place.
Mid-40s guy, average height but very good build, Ken doll hair and a bit of a pitch to his voice. Picture Ned Flanders with flatter hair, a black t-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. Yep, now you've got him.
My friend broke the news tonight that she found out what his day job is.
Mr. Line Dance Instructor works at the FBI. DC is such a strange place.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
On the departure of Agent Jones...
I went to a farewell happy hour tonight. Feel like there have been a lot of these going on lately. But this one has a particular sting the others did not.
Agent Jones, as I like to call her (not to her face, only in my head) is hightailing it out to California to be with her fiance who will be making six figures. Can't say I blame her. The getting married part is pretty great too. Thing is, she's one of those people who you can't help but love. She's got great girl next door looks, an amazing work ethic and is smart as a whip, but her main concern at any given point in time is making you laugh. She's also fantastic about saying the thing you're thinking but won't say for fear of offending someone. Consequently, she's got a million friends. You'd think that would work against her, but it simply does not.
She's also someone who can't help but be positive, in a manner that is completely infectious, and, in the workplace, has always had my back. At a time when friends on the home and work fronts appear to be dwindling, losing her is a multi-layered blow.
I've nothing particularly profound to say about her, or her party tonight. Simply I share that my heart's a little heavier knowing tomorrow is her last day, and I can't count on her to peer around my office door to belch and leave. Ok, that may not sound particularly endearing to you but a well-timed belch and run can work wonders on a bad day.
People come and go in the workplace, and my boss keeps assuring me that everyone is replaceable. I'm less convinced of that all the time. You can always find people to do a job, but when you find someone who raises the bar to such a standard as Jonesy has, it becomes unacceptable to envision someone sitting at her desk and assuming her tasks. I'd clone her if I could. I really would. She's the kind of person who brings people from opposite ends of the spectrum together. As I looked across the room at people I've feuded with professionally, both in the past and in the present, I was kind of amazed that we shared this one important feature in common. We love Agent Jones. How could you not?
I'm also confronted with the DC reality of how often people leave. Few seem to be rooted here. I was the one taking off 6 years ago with little intention of returning. In one month I've seen a friend move to Atlanta, another to California and yet another is on her way to Israel. I'm wondering how much more of this I can really take.
Agent Jones, as I like to call her (not to her face, only in my head) is hightailing it out to California to be with her fiance who will be making six figures. Can't say I blame her. The getting married part is pretty great too. Thing is, she's one of those people who you can't help but love. She's got great girl next door looks, an amazing work ethic and is smart as a whip, but her main concern at any given point in time is making you laugh. She's also fantastic about saying the thing you're thinking but won't say for fear of offending someone. Consequently, she's got a million friends. You'd think that would work against her, but it simply does not.
She's also someone who can't help but be positive, in a manner that is completely infectious, and, in the workplace, has always had my back. At a time when friends on the home and work fronts appear to be dwindling, losing her is a multi-layered blow.
I've nothing particularly profound to say about her, or her party tonight. Simply I share that my heart's a little heavier knowing tomorrow is her last day, and I can't count on her to peer around my office door to belch and leave. Ok, that may not sound particularly endearing to you but a well-timed belch and run can work wonders on a bad day.
People come and go in the workplace, and my boss keeps assuring me that everyone is replaceable. I'm less convinced of that all the time. You can always find people to do a job, but when you find someone who raises the bar to such a standard as Jonesy has, it becomes unacceptable to envision someone sitting at her desk and assuming her tasks. I'd clone her if I could. I really would. She's the kind of person who brings people from opposite ends of the spectrum together. As I looked across the room at people I've feuded with professionally, both in the past and in the present, I was kind of amazed that we shared this one important feature in common. We love Agent Jones. How could you not?
I'm also confronted with the DC reality of how often people leave. Few seem to be rooted here. I was the one taking off 6 years ago with little intention of returning. In one month I've seen a friend move to Atlanta, another to California and yet another is on her way to Israel. I'm wondering how much more of this I can really take.
Monday, May 7, 2007
On different times..
I just wrote my parents the following e-mail:
"My 29th birthday is 3 months and 10 days away. I would like either an IKEA gift card to furnish my new apartment or a digital camera as mine recently broke. Figured I'd let you know now in case you might require inspiration and want to get a joint gift."
At what point did I stop asking for "cool" things. What was the last cool thing I asked for? Seriously, if I get an IKEA gift card I might wet my pants I'll be so excited. That's right, like an overeager dog. I'm not ashamed of it.
Oy vey when did this become ok?
I remember being little and grabbing the Toys R Us catalog and pouring over it for HOURS at Christmas time and just before my birthday. I think I averaged circling 3 toys on every page, just in case I woke up the next day and my dad turned out to be Daddy Warbucks. You never knew..
The one thing that eases my mind is that I still look forward to my birthday with the eagerness of a child. I mean, what 28 year old do you know who is making her birthday list 3 months and 10 days in advance... not to mention counting down to the day. Well, other than you Chrissy.
"My 29th birthday is 3 months and 10 days away. I would like either an IKEA gift card to furnish my new apartment or a digital camera as mine recently broke. Figured I'd let you know now in case you might require inspiration and want to get a joint gift."
At what point did I stop asking for "cool" things. What was the last cool thing I asked for? Seriously, if I get an IKEA gift card I might wet my pants I'll be so excited. That's right, like an overeager dog. I'm not ashamed of it.
Oy vey when did this become ok?
I remember being little and grabbing the Toys R Us catalog and pouring over it for HOURS at Christmas time and just before my birthday. I think I averaged circling 3 toys on every page, just in case I woke up the next day and my dad turned out to be Daddy Warbucks. You never knew..
The one thing that eases my mind is that I still look forward to my birthday with the eagerness of a child. I mean, what 28 year old do you know who is making her birthday list 3 months and 10 days in advance... not to mention counting down to the day. Well, other than you Chrissy.
On sticking to what you're good at...
I signed up for Race for the Cure last week. It was the same day someone told me I looked pregnant and the same day I fully realized I'm turning 30 next year. I'll probably never forget it. Anyway,I went running today to get ready for the race. It's in less than a month.
I'm screwed.
I've done road races before. In fact, 2004 saw me participate in a 5K AND a 10K. The 10K was the longest distance I have ever run. In fact, I didn't run a 10K before the race and haven't run one since and really just relied on race day adrenaline to get me through those 2 miles for which I never trained. Hey, at least it worked out.
So, yah, all in all I probably did close to 2.5 miles, but not all at once. Running outside is so very different than running on a treadmill. I can usually run this on a treadmill no problem, but, alas.
I really just need to accept the fact that I'll probably have to walk part of it. After all, strenuous exercise isn't good for the baby and I don't want to break a hip. Still, I know I'll be super hard on myself.
The problem is I'm a non-runner that grew up in a family of runners. My cousin still holds cross country and track records for our high school, and my dad had something ridiculous like 8 straight years where he didn't miss a day of running. Me? I've just never been able to do it. I tried. I really did. And I remember the look of anticipation on the coaches' faces when I signed up for summer track. And the look of despair when they realized I did not inherit the speedy genes to which my cousin could lay claim.
First off, I don't have a runner's body. Period. I have more of a mud wrestler's body if I had to pick a sport.
Secondly, I really loathe running. Guess that's the more important part. When I was running back home in Maine, and even in Boston, I was able to find some really pretty scenery that, when combined with good music on my headphones, could kind of distract me from that fact. In my current neighborhood, if I go running outside, as I did today, I'm not embraced by tree-lined streets. Despite the fact that I'm on a trail, I run past Reagan National Airport. Nothing like the roaring of jet engines to take you away...
I really want to get through the race. I want to get through the race and not stop. It's not the end of the world if I have to walk, but, having gotten through these things before, if I do have to walk, I'm going to feel like my body is falling apart.
Or I could just continue to train and get better every day. But then what would I complain about?
I'm screwed.
I've done road races before. In fact, 2004 saw me participate in a 5K AND a 10K. The 10K was the longest distance I have ever run. In fact, I didn't run a 10K before the race and haven't run one since and really just relied on race day adrenaline to get me through those 2 miles for which I never trained. Hey, at least it worked out.
So, yah, all in all I probably did close to 2.5 miles, but not all at once. Running outside is so very different than running on a treadmill. I can usually run this on a treadmill no problem, but, alas.
I really just need to accept the fact that I'll probably have to walk part of it. After all, strenuous exercise isn't good for the baby and I don't want to break a hip. Still, I know I'll be super hard on myself.
The problem is I'm a non-runner that grew up in a family of runners. My cousin still holds cross country and track records for our high school, and my dad had something ridiculous like 8 straight years where he didn't miss a day of running. Me? I've just never been able to do it. I tried. I really did. And I remember the look of anticipation on the coaches' faces when I signed up for summer track. And the look of despair when they realized I did not inherit the speedy genes to which my cousin could lay claim.
First off, I don't have a runner's body. Period. I have more of a mud wrestler's body if I had to pick a sport.
Secondly, I really loathe running. Guess that's the more important part. When I was running back home in Maine, and even in Boston, I was able to find some really pretty scenery that, when combined with good music on my headphones, could kind of distract me from that fact. In my current neighborhood, if I go running outside, as I did today, I'm not embraced by tree-lined streets. Despite the fact that I'm on a trail, I run past Reagan National Airport. Nothing like the roaring of jet engines to take you away...
I really want to get through the race. I want to get through the race and not stop. It's not the end of the world if I have to walk, but, having gotten through these things before, if I do have to walk, I'm going to feel like my body is falling apart.
Or I could just continue to train and get better every day. But then what would I complain about?
Thursday, May 3, 2007
WTF? You don't look like Helen Mirren!
So Queen Elizabeth II is in Virginia to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Jamestown. YIPPIE!
The local news this morning had tips for how to act if you encounter the Queen, as if you're going to bump into her at Chipotle or something. Among their suggestions?
"You do not have to bow or curtsy. You may shake hands with the Queen but do not use a firm grip. The Queen likes a gentle touch." (Bown chika boump boump)
"If the Queen lingers, feel free to make small talk. Asking her about her grandchildren is always a good choice." (So, Mumsy, do you think Harry's going to get shot in Iraq?!?!)
"Be yourself. The Queen has been doing this for many years and is very adaptable." (Duh, did you see her in The Naked Gun?")
Enjoy your royal encounter!
The local news this morning had tips for how to act if you encounter the Queen, as if you're going to bump into her at Chipotle or something. Among their suggestions?
"You do not have to bow or curtsy. You may shake hands with the Queen but do not use a firm grip. The Queen likes a gentle touch." (Bown chika boump boump)
"If the Queen lingers, feel free to make small talk. Asking her about her grandchildren is always a good choice." (So, Mumsy, do you think Harry's going to get shot in Iraq?!?!)
"Be yourself. The Queen has been doing this for many years and is very adaptable." (Duh, did you see her in The Naked Gun?")
Enjoy your royal encounter!
On a woman's wost nightmare
As I was walking out of the office this evening, I said good-bye to a woman who I don't see everyday, but see often enough to be friendly. She did a double take as I turned away only to say:
"Oh my God! My sweet! Are you pregnant?"
I hate everybody right now.
"Oh my God! My sweet! Are you pregnant?"
I hate everybody right now.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Door number one or door number two
I took a work friend out to dinner tonight. She moves to California next week with her fiance, who has accepted a position at a law firm where he will make $160,000/year. I want to cry. Oh yah, and I'm sad about her leaving too.
Anyway, I offered to pick up the check because it was my pleasure to do so and she's meant a lot to me as a friend and a colleague. In return, she offered to buy us ice cream. Fantastic!
Not that it matters, but she got to buy us ice cream on $.31 scoop night at Baskin Robbins.
Where is the justice in that?
Anyway, I offered to pick up the check because it was my pleasure to do so and she's meant a lot to me as a friend and a colleague. In return, she offered to buy us ice cream. Fantastic!
Not that it matters, but she got to buy us ice cream on $.31 scoop night at Baskin Robbins.
Where is the justice in that?
On poor word choice
Just about every year, there comes a moment of total giddiness amidst simple, every day conversation with a friend. You never know when it will come, but when it does, it's all I can do not to wet myself from laughing so hard.
This grand moment comes only when the stars align and when a friend's combination of alcohol intake, fatigue and/or general confusion intersect.
That's right. There is no greater moment that can emerge from the everyday than overhearing someone say "self-defecating" instead of "self-deprecating".
This grand moment comes only when the stars align and when a friend's combination of alcohol intake, fatigue and/or general confusion intersect.
That's right. There is no greater moment that can emerge from the everyday than overhearing someone say "self-defecating" instead of "self-deprecating".
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